Disclaimer: Mature content - read responsibly. I own and gain nothing, Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Author's Note: This is also quite short, but have no fear, it was one of the easier tasks, the smut will come soon. Chapters to be added soon. Enjoy :) (R&R!)
Task One
Alcohol in school
Hermione had decided that she wasn't going to simply complete the list, she was going to own it. As she sat at her potions desk, legs casually crossed over one another, revealing a stripe of skin going up her thigh where her robes parted, she watched Severus Snape hold up small bottles and drone on about their properties. Of all the startled double-checks she had seen on the faces of her peers, his - while the most skillfully disguised - intrigued her. She had changed greatly between fourth and fifth year, and the tension she had brought upon more than a few of her classmates pants had not gone unnoticed by her. Looking away from Snape long enough to wink at a salivating Ravenclaw to her right, she fell back into a smirk as she saw him flush red and scramble to readjust his legs and pick up a quill, scribbling furiously. Back at the front of the room, Snape looked at the students before him, his eyes drawn like a magnet to Hermione's seat. She licked her lips, keeping eye contact with him instead of looking away as she would've before. Snape stumbled on his words, masking the hitch with a cough.
She had expected some reactions, but nothing of this scale. The newfound power was exhilarating.
She could feel the Ravenclaw to the right's eyes on her as she bent over, letting her robes hang over, revealing her cleavage, as she drew the flask out of her bag. She smiled at the front of the room, watching the gulping Ravenclaw out of the corner of her eye. Unscrewing the lid, she was about to take a large swig when she noticed Snape's eyes on her.
The burning of the Firewhiskey seared it's path down her throat as she watched Snape's conflict over whether to call her out or not.
"Miss Granger!" He called.
"Yes Professor Snape?"
"What exactly, are you drinking in my class?" His voice had silenced the room, all eyes were on her and the flask in her hand. She forced a small cough, smiling innocently at him.
"It's my medicine sir. This room makes me damp… that is, my lungs of course." She said, keeping her face frozen in an innocent expression as titters went around the room at her innuendo.
Her professor seemed to decide that maintaining control of his classroom was more important than pursuing the line of inquiry and he resumed his lesson with a mumbled, "very well," and a few sharp stares at the remaining gigglers.
She dropped the flask in her bag, drawing out the card. Breathing onto the parchment, a thick, silver checkmark burned itself into the paper next to the first task on the list. Hermione traced it with her finger, marveling at how complex the charms must be. Evidence of course had to be provided to receive the check. This meant substance recognition, visual recognition, scent recognition, not to mention the self-marking checks.
With the satisfied smile of a cat with a canary in its mouth, she slipped the card into her bag and relaxed into her chair. It was going to be an interesting three weeks - that is, if it takes her that long.